


I'm in a Hurry (But Don't Know Why)

by tisfan



Series: Open Ask Prompts [16]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Bondage, Butt Plugs, Edgeplay, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-27
Updated: 2017-08-27
Packaged: 2018-12-20 17:43:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,954
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11925963
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tisfan/pseuds/tisfan
Summary: Tony always made love like it was the first time, or the last time.Even when they’d made frantic love in the penthouse that morning; not even slow, sleepy morning sex, but grappling, biting, bruising, clawing, gasping love, Tony would be just as urgent, just as needy, by the afternoon and dragging Bucky off into a quickie in the bathroom.Usually -- usually -- Bucky wasn’t complaining.Really, he wasn’t complaining. He wasn’t.Except that he kinda was.





	I'm in a Hurry (But Don't Know Why)

**Author's Note:**

> _Would it be too much trouble to (pretty please > < ) ask for a fic in which Bucky likes (or, more like, /needs/) to see Tony come apart on his fingers alone????_
> 
>  
> 
> Dear Nonny,
> 
> This story got away from me; the original intent was to let Bucky get Tony to completion that way, but Bucky’s instincts (and Tony being a demanding little pet) kinda got in the way. So, I hope you enjoy it, even though it’s not exactly what you asked for.

Tony always made love like it was the first time, or the last time.

When Bucky could spare a thought between heated, wet kisses and the sense of urgency that Tony projected (which was usually to say in the drowsy, warm aftermath) he wondered if Tony had always been that way, or if it was something to do with Afghanistan and the horrible certainty that his last time was going to have been his _last time_ , and regretting it.

Even when they’d made frantic love in the penthouse that morning; not even slow, sleepy morning sex, but grappling, biting, bruising, clawing, gasping love, Tony would be just as urgent, just as needy, by the afternoon and dragging Bucky off into a quickie in the bathroom.

Usually -- _usually_ \-- Bucky wasn’t complaining.

When he’d been injected, all those years ago (and injected was really a mild word considering what they’d done to him) with the super-soldier serum, his libido had picked up so damn much they had to chemically castrate him just to keep him functional. As the Winter Soldier, he could either shoot, or fuck, but not both.

Really, he wasn’t complaining. He wasn’t.

Except that he kinda was.

Tony was always chasing more, better, harder, faster, and Bucky _wanted_ to give it to him. Pretty much as soon as Tony started moaning -- or worse, _begging_ for it -- Bucky lost all sense of self-control and then he was just as much an animal in heat as Tony, seeking release for release’s sake.

Bucky tried to tell himself that he didn’t _feel used_ ; Tony wasn’t using him, like some sort of cyborg sex-toy.

Except that he kinda did.

The closest they’d ever gotten to slowing down was a number of occasions that Tony would wind Bucky up like a cheap watch. Usually in public, at some Avenger’s function, or some charity dinner, where Bucky couldn’t react. They’d be sitting at the table together and then Tony’s socked foot would be in Bucky’s lap, and how the hell did Tony have toes that were that damn dextrous? If Bucky tried shit like that, he’d probably end up kicking Tony in the balls and ending their adventures for that night, at least.

Bucky wasn’t sure if that counted as _slowing down_ , though, because usually by the end of the event (and once in the freaking middle of a Maria Stark Charity ball, where Bucky had nudged Tony into a broom closet and then choked himself on Tony’s cock) they were fucking in the backseat of Tony’s car.

They were sprawled in Tony’s huge bed, sweaty and exhausted (Tony’d teased and tormented Bucky enough that he’d lost count of how many times he’d come and Tony’d gone at least twice, which had Bucky feeling smug and Tony rather pleased with himself) when Bucky made a joke that suddenly became serious.

“Swear to god,” Bucky said, absently running his fingers through Tony’s hair. He wasn’t even sure tony was still awake, really. He was clinging to Bucky with both hands, almost as if he was scared that Bucky was going to try and bolt for the door. How was that even possible? They’d been together more than a year now, and Tony hadn’t even _started_ to relax.

He made love like it was the first time. Or the last time. Because one day, it was going to be.

“I am gonna tie you down, one of these days,” Bucky threatened, half-joking. “An’ _make_ you let me take my time.”

Tony inhaled, just a little sharper than before. “Oh, _really_? How’s that going to work out for you?” Oh, God, Tony was already moving, soft and sensual, rubbing against Bucky’s leg and -- how the hell was Tony hard again? Jesus.

And then Bucky was too distracted for any more plans.

***

“I’m not sure this is exactly what I had in mind what you said you were going to tie me down,” Tony said. He was already naked, on display for Bucky’s pleasure.

Bucky’s eyebrow went up. “You gave me a list of things I was, and was not, allowed to do to you. If this doesn’t match, or you’re uncomfortable, this is a good time to let me know.”

“It’s very… comfortable,” Tony said, that furrow in between his eyebrows forming up.

“Yeah,” Bucky agreed. “The more uncomfortable, the shorter a time period I can keep you in there.”

“This is _really_ comfortable,” Tony said. He wiggled his eyebrows suggestively.

“Yes,” Bucky said, again.

The sort of contraption that Bucky could use to hold Tony down would have been a joke to the Winter Soldier’s strength, but while Tony was in fine shape for a plain-vanilla human, this would keep him pinned until Bucky chose to let him go. There was a deep, black fire in the base of Bucky’s spine at that thought.

It was a simple swing, holding Tony in a reclining position, legs bent and spread wide, arms up and behind his neck. Tony was wearing a collar, wrist cuffs, ankle cuffs, and bands on his thighs and biceps that could be used to lock him down in any number of positions. The swing was very… flexible.

“No, no,” Tony said. “No complaints, I’m just…”

“Was there something else you had in mind?” Bucky asked.

“Bent over and fucked sounds good,” Tony suggested.

“You think I can’t fuck you, like this?” Bucky took a step closer, between Tony’s legs. He twisted into a squat, putting him on eye-level with Tony’s dick. He licked his finger, then ran it, ever so slowly, along the crease of Tony’s thigh until he pressed over Tony’s hole, brushing the puckered surface.

“You could get on with it, sunshine,” Tony said, wriggling a little in the few inches the bondage allowed.

“Hmmmm,” Bucky said, teasing around Tony’s ass a bit longer and then pulling back. “Let’s go with, no.” He stood up, nudged the heat up again. Bucky was already sweating a little but Tony would get cold, so exposed. “Try to get out.”

“Huh?”

“You have five minutes,” Bucky said, eying the lock over Tony’s shoulder. “Try to get out. I wanna make sure nothing’s going to break or bend at the wrong moment.”

Tony made a few half-hearted tugs at the restraints that seemed more designed to bring Bucky’s attention to Tony’s cock than anything else.

“Tony?”

“Hmmm?”

“You’re not trying very hard,” Bucky said.

“Well, maybe I don’t want to get away,” Tony pointed out.

Bucky walked around behind him, stroked his fingers down light against the inside of Tony’s bicep. “Try harder,” he suggested. “Or I will _make you_.”

“How do you plan to do that?” Tony was being such a brat. Bucky was looking forward to getting him all the way to humble.

Bucky slid his finger along Tony’s upper arm, then dropped both hands along Tony’s ribs and squeezed, playfully.

Tony squealed, twisting away from Bucky’s tickling fingers.

“You think I can’t make you?” Bucky asked, tickling again and watching Tony struggle and squirm and giggle. He yanked, desperate and hard, at the bonds on his arms, trying to cover vulnerable ribs. Pulled at his legs. His whole body writhed and twisted and strained, but it barely mattered. Bucky counted quietly in his head, slow. And then as he got closer to sixty, an entire minute of non-stop torment, he counted out loud.

“Oh my god,” Tony yelled, then lay back, panting. “That was _evil_ , oh christ, I…”

“You’ve got four more minutes,” Bucky reminded him. “Try to get out.”

There was quite a bit more effort put into Tony’s escape attempt this time. Bucky walked around him, touching his skin from time to time, watching Tony as he twisted his neck to peer at Bucky with suspicion.

“I can’t,” Tony finally said, panting and laying back in the restraints. “If my life depended on it, and I had more time, maybe, _maybe_ I could get out.”

There was a bead of sweat trickling down the side of Tony’s face and Bucky licked it away. “That’s a good start, honey,” Bucky said. He squatted down again so he was near Tony’s ear. “So, here’s your last chance, doll.”

“For what?” Tony’s eyes were wide, but his mouth was twisted back up into that insouciant smirk. Oh yeah, Tony was not a good boy. He never was.

“Can you take what I’m about to dish out? You want out, no harm, no foul. Now’s the time to say so.” That was a lie, of course. Tony could safeword out at any time and it’d be fine. But if he was going to safe word out, Bucky wanted Tony to really _think_ about it. Wanted him to mean it, and not because Tony was being a brat.

Or a wuss; Tony had once totally safeworded out because his back itched. _Baby_.

“Might help if I had some idea of what you’re planning to dish on me,” Tony said, easily enough, stretching in his minimal inches to let Bucky gaze longingly at him. Bucky both admired and felt a swell of pity at that. How utterly comfortable Tony was with his own nudity. Enough people had seen his body, both in person and in terrible trash papers and sleazy yellow journalism sites that Tony had nothing left to hide.

Or so he thought. Bucky was convinced there were some secrets left, underneath the masks that were Iron Man, and the public persona, the filthy-minded asshole who cracked bad jokes with his teammates. Deeper masks, under those. That Tony Stark himself was just a mask and there was something under that, too. Bucky thought he’d seen it, once or twice, the deeply vulnerable person that lived in there.

“Gonna make you feel good, baby,” Bucky promised. “That’s all. Gonna make you feel good until you can’t stand it anymore, and then I’m gonna show you that you can stand it a bit longer. And a bit more than that.” Bucky licked the shell of Tony’s ear while he shivered.

“You think I can’t take that?” Tony scoffed. His eyes were glowing, hot and brilliant amber, giving a bit of a lie to his blithe words.

“Well, there might be a catch,” Bucky said. “You sure you want to risk it?”

“I trust you,” Tony said.

Bucky’s breath caught in his throat and his heart pounded a little harder. Tony was nothing if not sincere. He teased, he fronted, he distracted, but in those few moments, the ones Bucky was learning to treasure, Tony was absolutely, brutally honest.

“All right, baby,” Bucky said. He squirmed into the rig, cupping the back of Tony’s head and bringing him in for a kiss, sweet and warm and absolutely refusing to let Tony deepen it, or tempt him. “I’m gonna take care of you, I promise. Best I can.”

“I’m sensing a but coming here, and not in like, the sexy way,” Tony teased, still suave and easy, despite being utterly vulnerable.

“I’m gonna give you what you need, baby,” Bucky said, lowering his voice until he was practically growling the words. “But _I own you_. Everything you get is because I’m choosing to give it to you. Beg and plead and cry as much as you want, it’ll only make things drag on longer. You’re not coming until you _deserve it_.”

Tony’s eyebrow went up, smug and cynical. “I deserve all the good stuff,” he pointed out.

“Not when you’re bein’ a brat, you don’t.”

Bucky stood back and gazed at Tony, steady and simple, checking him out. Pleased. Tony was his. The beast inside growling in satisfaction. He was going to enjoy this.

And so was Tony.

***

Tony moaned, soft and eager, body shifting under Bucky’s hand.

He was wrung out, sweaty, a red-eyed, tangle-haired wreck.

“Check in with me, baby,” Bucky said. He dipped the washcloth into his basin again and wrung it out. Took a few long swipes down Tony’s body to clean sweat and semen and lube from his back and thighs.

“Mmmmhmmmm,” Tony managed. Bucky wasn’t even sure Tony knew he’d been moved out of the sling and was laying on his belly on a pad of towels while Bucky sponged him off. Whenever Tony started to drift off too much, Bucky tapped on the plug he’d inserted in Tony’s ass about halfway through their play session, which jolted the man back into some semblance of wakefulness. “‘M good, baby.”

“You ready?”

Tony whimpered. “Can I…?”

Bucky’d teased him. Tormented him. Wrung moans and screams out of him, but Tony hadn’t come. Bucky had. Five times already. Down Tony’s throat twice while Bucky played him over with a remote plug. Again, marked him across his back while Tony swore and struggled with his bonds, begging Bucky to touch, to kiss, lick, or suck, _something, please, god, Bucky_...

“Have you been good for me?”

Tony whined. Bucky could see him struggling with it, wanting to _say_ he was, not _sure_ if he was…

Bucky rubbed down Tony’s spine, teased against the sweat-damped thighs, traced a finger around the curve of Tony’s ass, inching back toward the plug. Tony wriggled a little, friction against the towels under him.

“Is that good, Tony, you’re rubbing it out…”

Tony froze. Took a hitching breath. “Please, please, Bucky, _no…_ ”

Every time Tony had chased pleasure, had sought his release, Bucky’d been hauling him back from it, ruthless, relentless.

 _Stop fighting for it, Tony. Let yourself believe that I’ll give it to you. Just because I_ want _to._

“Bucky, yes,” Bucky whispered in his ear.

Tony was wracked with shivers, his entire body quaking. “I need, I need, I need…” he cried, voice barely audible.

“I know you do, baby, I know,” Bucky said, soothing. He petted down Tony’s shoulders and arms, stretched him all out. Pressed at the few bruises and pink spots, watching Tony’s skin pale and purple, blush rushing over him in patches. “An’ I’m gonna give it to you… soon as you deserve it.”

Tony drew in a hitching breath, and Bucky prayed he hadn’t pushed the man too far -- even sensual torture _was_ torture, if it was drawn on long enough. If Tony didn’t get relief, it could shove all the way into unpleasant, and that would be a fuckin’ shame.  

Because Tony had been so utterly beautiful, completely responsive, achingly willing to do whatever Bucky demanded. He’d been perfect and Bucky would treasure the moment, forever, that Tony had given himself entirely up.

“I don’t…”

Don’t say it, Tony, please…

“You do,” Bucky said, reassuring him. “You _do…_ you deserve… so much. So much more than I can give you.”

“Then give it to me,” Tony begged. “Please, come on, I need…”

“Do you deserve it?”

Tony raised his head, those brown eyes as rich and delicious as sauvignon fixing on Bucky. “Yes, yes, I think I do, actually, deserve it.”

A warm flower of affection unfolded in Bucky’s chest. God, he loved this man, so much. It was hard, harder work, and yet better than anything he’d done before, was convincing this man that it was love. And that Tony Stark deserved it.

“Then let me give you what you need, baby,” Bucky said. “Nudge up, a bit here.”

He got Tony on his knees, practically bent in half over the bed, wrists pressed against the mattress near his knees.

Bucky tapped the plug again, his interest stirring again as Tony whined. Super soldier serum had done wonders for Bucky’s stamina, and even back in the day, he’d enjoyed taking his time, stretching the few hours in a dark and private room into endless minutes. A series of perfect moments.

But nothing had, nothing would, _ever_ have prepared him for the sensual delight that was Tony Stark. He was like finest wine and melted dark chocolate at once, the taste of cherries and the smell of fresh grass. He was all eagerness and wanting, and Bucky _ached_ for him. _Constantly_.

Tony and that gorgeous, renaissance body was proof of concept. That God was real and wanted his children to be happy. Tony was darkness and sin, licentious, depraved, wanton and wicked. And he was all Bucky’s to enjoy; beautiful body to appreciate, a glorious mind to revel in, a sensual heart to relish.

Bucky twisted the plug, pulled it from its tight nest in Tony’s ass with a quick tug. Tony groaned, his back arching, buttocks thrusting back toward Bucky.

God, he was perfect.

“I got you,” Bucky said. He nudged Tony’s knees apart, testing that pink and puffy opening with one finger.

“... godddd.” Tony slurred. He was shivering, thighs quaking.

“I got you, Tony,” Bucky repeated. He lubed himself up, erection twitching against his hand. That felt good enough that he stroked himself a few times, letting himself moan for it, feeling the way Tony twitched against him as he did it.

Tony squirmed backward, perfect ass in the air, impatient, desperate whimpers leaking from his throat in a constant stream. “Please, baby, please, I can’t, I gotta, I gotta…”

Bucky lined himself up, pushed the head of his cock into that aching, eager hole.

Tony nearly screamed, his voice strained and spiraling upward. “Yes, yes, yes, please, Bucky, baby, please, I--” He lost track of what he was saying, started just babbling sounds and wordless moans.

Bucky leaned forward, gripped Tony’s wrists, held him in that bent, needy position, barely able to twist. “I’m here,” Bucky said. “I’m here, I got you, baby.”

“Bucky, yes, please, please more,” Tony managed. He shifted, just a little, face pressed into the pillows, pushing back with all the strength in his legs and Bucky slid further into him, that wet, slick heat, and Bucky groaned.

God, Tony felt good, he almost couldn’t hold on, any longer.

“Yes, there,” Bucky said. He kept leaning on Tony’s wrists, kept him pinned down, tortured him with slow, nudging stokes, not even an inch, just a wriggle, really, enough to send sparks of desire through both of them, but not enough, not nearly enough, to get them there.

“No, more, please, please,” Tony was begging, whining, his hole fluttering desperately. He clamped, trying to draw Bucky in deeper.

“What you need seven inches for, baby, your prostate’s only a few inches back,” Bucky teased, knowing that Tony would hear the edge of need in Bucky’s own voice.

“Need you t’ fuck me,” Tony begged. “Need it all.”

Bucky groaned, fingers hard and sweaty against Tony’s wrists, holding him. “Okay, okay,” he said. He shifted, let himself penetrate Tony another inch, two, and then… the slide was exquisite, so hot and tight that Bucky couldn’t think of resisting any longer, couldn’t tease and tempt, couldn’t… oh, god, _Tony_...

“Yeah, yeah, I got you,” Tony replied, and Bucky realized he was saying everything outloud, how perfect Tony was, how good, how sweet, how much Bucky wanted to drown in that perfect body, lose himself in that swirling heat, forget everything, just live in that moment, just have this… perfect… second.

“Love you,” Bucky managed, then he was done, done teasing, and he let loose of Tony’s wrists to clamp down on Tony’s hips, to pull that excellent ass back to him, to slam into Tony’s body with every bit of wanting in him.

Tony groaned, rocked with him. Rose up onto his hands and knees and then curled his back, giving Bucky that perfect visual. Bucky put his metal hand in the center of Tony’s spine, pushed him down, held him down as Tony groaned and twisted against him, and then they were moving as one, matchless and animal. Rutting, screaming. Bucky’s fingers tightened on Tony’s hip and Tony snarled and shoved backward.

Bucky got an arm under Tony’s chest, drew him up and back until they were on their knees, pressed close together. He bit down at the tender skin of Tony’s neck, took tiny nips of his shoulder, closed his mouth over the skin there and sucked, pulling a bruise to the surface.

Tony twisted, kissed Bucky’s mouth, sloppy and wet, all teeth and tongue and slick, mobile lips. “Turn me over, baby,” Tony begged him. “Wanna watch you, wanna see your face, I need to--”

“Yeah, I got…”

It wasn’t turning so much as it was throwing. Tony fell to the bed with a groan and scrambled over, scootching himself down the mattress so fast that he probably left blanket burn on his ass in his eagerness to get Bucky back inside.

Bucky hooked his arms under Tony’s knees, bending him in half like a deck chair, thrusting in with no delicacy, no grace, no patience.

Tony’s back made a perfect, delicious curve against the bed. His depths were warm, inviting and Bucky lost himself in them.

“Look at me, baby,” Tony said, and Bucky raised his chin to watch Tony’s face, that sweet, perfect, sin.

“I got you.”

“I got you, first,” Tony teased.

It was a struggle to keep his eyes open, to watch every flicker of Tony’s face as they moved together in perfect harmony. Bucky kept wanting to collapse into Tony’s heat, to tuck his mouth against the safety of Tony’s throat, the sanctuary of that hollow between his neck and his shoulder… but he watched.

They moved slower that way, the slide and twist of bodies became something more than animal rutting, more than heat, more than need, until it was an ache so bad that Bucky was moaning with each breath and Tony’s sweetness was surrounding him, enveloping him.

He kissed Tony again, intensity and fervor that would carry them through completion. He was breathing in the air that Tony let out. Relentless and restless, they moved together and Tony was open to him, unhesitating, giving everything he had to give and taking everything that Bucky offered. How long he kissed Tony, Bucky couldn’t have said. He was made for that moment, their lips together, tongues moving in a sinuous dance of desire. He was born for that moment, all the way back in 1917, formed to be given, broken, into Tony’s care, and Tony had met that need with everything in him.

Tony kissed him back with equal abandon, hands reaching and touching everything he could; stroking the fires higher. Tony clenched around him, muscles bearing down, giving delightful friction, and Bucky surrendered to it.

“Come on home, baby,” Tony whispered. Bucky groaned at that, thrust forward until he was all the way, sunk so deep inside Tony’s body that he thought he might never come out.

Tony arched into it, cock hot and heavy and hard against Bucky’s belly, and Bucky ground down, giving him as much as he could. They moved again, shifted, until Bucky wrapped his fingers around Tony’s prick, stroking with inelegant, but efficient strokes.

Tony screamed, coming so hard that it spurted between them, blossoming heat and wetness, against Bucky’s gut, his chest, along his chin. Tony kept those wine-dark eyes open, let Bucky watch all the tenderness and love, as galaxies bloomed and died in endless moments while Tony shook free, shuddered into pleasure and completion.

Bucky shattered. And when he finally came down, it seemed impossible that he should still be alive; surely nothing could feel that intense, that wonderous, that a body could survive it. He blinked a few times, eyes burning with passion.

“I love you,” he said, kissing Tony’s hair, and then again, seeking, his mouth across Tony’s cheek, kissed the pattern of freckles on his nose, until their lips brushed together with one final sigh. “I got you, Tony. I got you, baby.”

“You do… you got me, you had me, you have me.”

  


 

  



End file.
